Original subtitles

This is a story about one of the most powerful men in the world.

More powerful than any tribal king.

More powerful than any politician or priest or even psychoanalyst.

His office is a combination of cabinet room and confessional.

All over the western world,

thousands look to him to save them from poverty, ruin and despair.

Look, you've got to help me, Mr. Sidley. This tax business is killing me.

I lie awake at nights thinking about it.

The truth is, I just can't afford to earn all this money.

Is there no way I can make a complete loss in one year?

You must realize as a self-employed writer,

there's virtually nothing you cannot claim off your tax.

Everything is deductible.

Have you got a secretary? No.

Well, get one. A maid? No.

Get one. A wife? No.

But I've got a girlfriend. That's not deductible.

But I don't want a wife. Of course you do.

I calculate a saving of 12 to 15 percent on those three items alone.

Everyone in your tax bracket should have a wife.

Could you enlarge a little on these doubts?

What would you say if your wife came in all hours of the night

and left first thing in the morning? With no explanation?

Well, this morning she said she wanted to watch the sun come up from Parliament Hill.

And this seems to you improbable?

Damn it, man. You think I'm a fool? No, no.

Yesterday morning she came in at 1:20.

Did you ask her where she'd been?

If I ask her anything, I get a shrug, a silence and then a sulk.

Of course I don't count.

I'm a square, and squares have no feelings. It's as simple as that.

The moral of this shabby story is very plain.

Marry someone of your own background,

or better still, don't marry at all.

Good day, Mr. Mayhew. There's no point in continuing this.

My dear sir, there's every point.

Now, please. Please.

One's marriage is at an end, and that is that.

You've no real evidence to assume so, Mr. Sidley.

Evidence? She's seeing someone else. It's obvious.

Probably several.

She comes from California, and it's apparently required there

to bed down with a different partner every night.

Oh, this is despicable. Forgive me for wasting your time.

My dear sir, it's not despicable to be jealous.

In my view it's even noble.

This is our Mr. Parkinson.

He can be relied on absolutely.

How do you do? How do you do?

It is now the 28th, Mr. Sidley.

Mr. Parkinson will start investigating your wife immediately

and will see you in your office in two weeks' time.

That will be September the 11th.

If the lady is innocent, no harm will have been done.

If regrettably she is not,

well, then what harm will have been done anyway, hmm?

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ As long as you're there ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ I'll be ♪

♪ Only ♪

♪ A smile away from all you do ♪

♪ No matter where you lead me to ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Your heart is the heart ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ Softly ♪

♪ Slowly ♪

♪ You look my way ♪

♪ No words are said ♪

♪ But still I hear ♪

♪ Inside my head ♪

♪ Follow ♪

Oh. Good morning, Mr. Sidley. Good morning.

You only have two appointments this morning.

Yes. One at 10:00 with a Mr. Parkinson?

You seem to have written him in yourself. Yes, that's right.

Show him in as soon as he arrives, will you?

And a Mr. Scrampton at 11:00.

Thank you, Miss Framer. Would you get my wife on the phone, please?

Oh, don't... bother, Miss Framer. I'll get her myself.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello.

It's you, isn't it?

Isn't it?

Say something. I dare you. Go on.

Come on. Say something.

It's all right. I'm alone.

It is you, isn't it?

Say something, you beast.

Overwhelming.

Hmm.

Your reference books. They're overwhelming.

Who are you? What are you doing?

And how imposing they look on the shelves.

Sacred ranks of learning.

- How did you get there? - Through the door.

And how long have you been up there? Half an hour.

Half an hour? Mm-hmm.

You didn't notice me, did you?

No, don't apologize, please.

Very few people do.

Anyway, it's a positive joy to wait in a room like this.

Webster's Dictionary.

Chambers's Encyclopaedia. Whitaker's Almanack.

Even the names have a certain leathery beauty. Don't you agree?

Are you a salesman?

Ah, forgive me. I was lapsing.

Well, I was once. But then I was everything once.

I had 23 positions before I was 30. Really?

Oh, I know what you're thinking.

A striking record of failure, but you are wrong.

I never fail jobs. They fail me. The life goes out of them.

Forgive me. Am I talking too much?

I presume you want to see me professionally.

Well, it's rather more that I have to.

Not that I don't want to see you, of course.

I'm rather busy this morning.

Let me make an appointment for next week.

Would you bring the book, please, Miss Framer?

I must say I hardly approve of your methods of entrance, Mr...

Cristoforou.

Cristoforou?

Yes. It's a little downbeat, I admit.

It suggests Balkan cigarettes and conspirator mustaches.

I don't care for it. However, it's not to be avoided.

My father was a Rhodes scholar.

I mean by that he was a scholar from Rhodes.

Why don't you just call me Julian?

That's a good between-the-wars name.

That's my mother's influence.

She was almost defiantly English.

When can I make an appointment for this gentleman, Miss Framer?

Well, your earliest would be Tuesday morning, Mr. Sidley.

Tuesday morning? Mm, I don't really like Tuesdays.

They are an indeterminate sort of day.

Mr. Cristoforou, I'm hardly noted for my patient disposition.

I'm delighted to hear that.

"Patience too long controlled

turns to cruelty."

It's an old Persian proverb. Or it could be Hindu.

Will you please tell me when you want to see me?

Well, it's more when you want to see me, isn't it?

I have no special relationship with the day of the week, Mr. Cristoforou.

No more have I in the final analysis.

They don't actually prevent me from doing things on them.

They merely encourage or discourage.

Well, shall we say Tuesday then?

All right. If that's the soonest you can manage.

I must confess to feeling surprised.

I'd imagined you differently.

You're in some kind of trouble?

"Your trouble is mine, sir."

It's one of my little mottoes.

Not inappropriate, I think.

Still, of course, I mustn't be unreasonable.

After all, you're paying.

I'm what?

Paying.

Mr. Cristoforou, wait a minute.

We seem to be talking at cross-purposes. Would you like a macaroon?

Would you state your business with me precisely?

What? You mean you don't know it?

How can I? Well...

You mean you don't know why I'm here?

How appalling.

I'm really agonized.

Well? Well, what must you think of me?

Chattering away, with you not even knowing why I'm here.

Well, I'd assumed...

Then you shouldn't assume anything,

least of all in my business.

I'm afraid it's typical of me.

My wits are scattered when they should be most collected.

Who are you?

I'm Parkinson's replacement.

Replacement? Mm-hmm.

From Mayhew & Figgis.

You know. "No stone unturned, no pound unearned."

And where is he?

Oh. Ten days ago,

he was thrown down an elevator shaft in Goodge Street.

They're very dangerous things.

Mr. Parkinson was killed?

Hmm. Incapacitated.

Why?

Oh, hazards of the game.

Ours is a dangerous life, Mr. Sidley.

Oh, don't worry.

Parkinson wasn't on your case when it happened.

Shh. Come back into the office.

You haven't got a spoon on you by any chance?

Spoon? Yeah, for my yogurt.

I always eat when I'm embarrassed or, as in this case, agonized.

Are you free now? I won't keep you a moment, Mr. Scrampton.

Ha. Where there's a secretary, there's always a teaspoon.

The office was meant to telephone and say I'd be here.

They obviously forgot. Come in and close the door.

Yeah, very embarrassing for both of us.

You mustn't worry, Mr. Sidley.

I really am a superb detective.

You see, it's one of the few jobs where being a nondescript is an advantage.

I would hardly describe you as nondescript.

Oh, yeah. I attained nondescript a long time ago.

Last year I became characterless.

This year I became superfluous.

Next year I shall be invisible.

Would you give me your report?

Ah, I'd prefer to read it myself.

I've taken a lot of trouble with the style.

All right. Only get on.

Ah.

Oh, how appalling.

I'm agonized.

Oh.

You must excuse me, Mr. Sidley,

for having so much food on me.

But being a detective,

meals become awfully irregular.

Sometimes you miss them altogether. Ah.

Are you sure you wouldn't like a macaroon? They're very sustaining.

Positive, thank you.

I would just like the information I am paying for.

I'm not quite sure what that is, Mr. Sidley.

Are you joking? Not at all.

If you wish to know whether your wife is being sexually unfaithful to you,

I must point out that it is extremely difficult

for a private eye to witness copulation.

Really? Oh, yes.

It is even more difficult to witness the desire for copulation.

Inevitably, therefore, there is no proof

that your wife has slept outside her marriage bed.

Then you have nothing to tell me.

Oh, well, I wouldn't say that.

Then what would you say?

In a word, what would you say?

May I take my coat off?

You see, there is something so intimate about a document like this,

a raincoat seems inappropriate.

Mr. Cristoforou, you may discard as many garments as you please

as long as you convey to me and quickly the contents of that report!

Thank you. You're very kind.

Well? Well, uh, Mr. Sidley,

at the risk of driving you mad,

I'd like to ask you a favor.

What?

Well, you know, I wasn't assigned to this case originally,

so I lack some of the facts.

Would you oblige me by answering a few questions?

Well, what about?

Your engagement to this girl?

May I ask why?

Well, stories of courtship could be very revealing.

You are here simply to tell me your findings, and that is all.

I can't, Mr. Sidley. Trust me.

Indulge me if you like.

But tell me things.

What kind of things?

For example, watching from a distance,

I wouldn't have thought

that Mrs. Sidley was at all the kind of wife you would have.

Why? What kind of wife would you imagine?

Some dreary little debutante, I suppose.

Oh, no, no, no. Of course not.

Why not? It's what everybody else expected me to have.

My colleagues, other accountants, my mother.

It's perfectly simple. You need a girl who is not a frump and not a floozy.

You're just not trying, that's all.

Julia Yelverton's boy's been married three times already,

and he's not yet 30.

And my friends were almost as bad.

If you don't take the plunge soon, mate,

you're going to end up as an Old Mud.

You know what that means, don't you?

Masculine for an Old Maid.

Well, the truth was, I didn't know one girl

I could put up with for a weekend, let alone a lifetime.

Oh, there are a great many dreary sisters of business friends.

A great many dreary daughters of business clients.

There are even one or two dollies who kept an excellent pillow.

And that was all.

I suppose I virtually settled

for being that perfectly understood Victorian phenomenon,

the confirmed bachelor.

I used to enjoy eating out.

I suppose food is something of a hobby of mine.

Oh, it is of mine too. Yes. Well, anyway,

one evening when I was idly wandering around looking for a new place to eat,

suddenly it all happened.

Hi.

Good evening. Good evening.

Are you... open?

Oh, sure.

It's just we don't look like it because we're very new

and not many people have heard of us yet.

As a matter of fact, we haven't had a customer all evening.

Well, let me be your first. Great.

Uh, where would you like to sit?

Oh, this will do fine. Okay.

I must say you have a formidable menu.

We pride ourselves on it.

Who's we? I guess I should say the management.

I just work here.

Well, what is Steak Nebuchadnezzar?

Um...

Yeah. Just a second. I'm sorry. I always forget.

It's a sirloin, with peaches and peppers flared in brandy.

And Lamb Belshazzar?

Cutlets with blackberries.

Blackberries flared in whiskey.

They seem to go in for rather a lot of flaring round here.

Yeah.

Have you nothing plainer?

Oh. Um, plainer.

Uh, how about a chicken with caramel?

That's a Babylon Special.

I... I could try.

So one Babylon Special, right?

Right. Right.

One special!

Okay.

Every customer gets one glass of wine free.

That's very generous. Yeah.

Are you living here? Uh, just passing through.

I'm in transit. Oh.

I guess I'm always in transit. That's my life.

Well, it's everyone's life really, isn't it?

Is it all right? Oh, yes. It's just fine.

I've just been to India. Oh, have you?

Yep. Ten friends and I came over from the States last Christmas.

We spent all our money on a broken-down old double-Decker bus

and drove it all the way to India.

It finally broke down in Kathmandu,

and we all had to find our own way back.

I've just got this far.

You ever slept 11 in a bus?

Uh, no. Can't say I have. What's it like?

Well, ten's company, 11's a crowd.

One special.

One special.

Whatever you do, don't touch the plate. It's very hot.

Oh, no. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh.

I'm sor... Oh, I'm sorry.

I believe I said I didn't want it with caramel.

A few nights later, I took her to a restaurant of my choosing,

where they went in for rather less flaring.

What did you have to eat?

Does it matter? Well, it matters to me.

Special meal, I hope.

Melon and golden figs.

Pork and honey. Cherry brandy soufflé.

It was a very plain meal. We began with whitebait.

Whitebait?

You mean those disgusting little fish you have to eat complete?

The little heads, the little eyes, everything?

They're delicious actually, washed down with a dry white wine.

Oh, you gave her dry white wine.

How tasteful.

Quite beyond my behavior.

Tell me more.

I suppose for months I'd felt myself slipping away into middle life,

journeying, as it were, into a colder latitude.

Now suddenly I felt warmer.

Belinda. What a splendid name.

Do you like it? I love it.

It's absolutely 18th century. Thank you.

I gave it to myself. My real name's Janet.

Isn't that tacky?

That's the kind of name my parents thought was modest.

Where do they live? In Los Angeles.

About three miles apart.

You mean they're divorced?

My father married again.

I... I don't see them.

This wine is fantastic.

It's got a... almost barbecue taste. It's agreeable, isn't it?

It's called Sancerre, and it comes from the Loire Valley.

Hmm. I bet I'm the single most ignorant person you've ever met.

I don't just mean about wines. I mean about culture and everything.

You think that's important? Oh, yeah.

If you take away music and art and painting,

people don't amount to much, do they?

I've only just figured that out.

Well, it's all a question of personal taste. I mean, for instance...

Look.

What's this?

It's beautiful. What is it?

Guess.

Uh... I don't know.

Um, a royal Persian pastry cutter.

Cold.

Um... You wore it on your... on your...

If you broke your fingernails in ancient China.

You're getting warmer.

It's jewelry, right? Hot.

A forehead thing.

Circlet of the moon. Goddess.

Colder. Colder.

I mean, what... It can't be a nose thing.

Why not? Is it a nose thing?

Precisely. A nose ring.

Isn't it quaint?

Yeah. Who wore it?

The trendy set used to wear them in India. In Ind... Really?

When? 600 AD.

600 AD?

Mmm, 700.800. Maybe nine.

Fashions change rather slowly in that part of the world.

You could have bought that in their Tiffany's anytime over 500 years.

It was one of their standard items.

Mind you it's well-known

that they had tougher nostrils than we do.

They did? Yes. As a result of playing all those nose flutes.

Nose flutes? Well, of course.

If you had to play a ceremonial nose flute for two days without stopping,

your nostrils would get tough too.

Oh, yes, it probably would.

It's lovely.

No. I mean, would you accept it?

Um, I...

I mean, I wouldn't expect you to wear it properly.

I could buy you a little chain. No, really, I...

Why not? Well, it must be awfully expensive.

No, it wasn't really.

I'd like you to have it.

You... You don't even know me.

Oh, we could correct that.

Oh, wow.

Aldous Huxley called that

the greatest painting of silence in the world.

Who's Aldous Huxley?

Well, he was a writer.

Without my asking for it, she offered me her whole life for remaking.

Did it need it? I rather think so.

She had had some contact with the arts. It's true.

Actually, she'd been living in a commune with two artists,

one of whom fried his canvases on a gas stove

whilst the other spat the paint onto his direct from his mouth,

thereby expressing contempt for society, I believe.

It's not surprising really

that she reacted to a little tactful reform with enthusiasm.

That's Bellini's portrait of the doge.

What's a doge?

Well, sort of a king of Venice.

He looks like the patron saint of all accountants.

Why do you say that? He's so pruny-looking.

Do I look like that?

Sure you do, most of the time.

So I tried to become less pruny.

I changed my car, and then I taught her to drive.

This is a really beautiful example of a Tudor home.

It was built in the 1520s by a courtier of Henry VIII.

See how they've used terracotta instead of stone?

Hmm. That's the Italian influence.

They say that it was here that Henry first met Anne Boleyn.

How romantic.

It really was. She quite lost her head over him.

You.

Ha, ha.

People who know as much as you are scary.

Oh, yes. No, really, I mean it.

That's silly. I'm just an accountant.

You're much more than that.

I don't believe one head can hold so much.

I really don't know anything.

All right. What's that music then?

Mahler. Fifth Symphony.

There you are.

Well, that's just something I happen to know.

Oh, sure.

Do you know the strange thing about Mahler?

You can virtually play his symphonies in any order

and not be able to tell which he wrote first.

He never fundamentally changed.

Ah, that's like a curse, isn't it?

Suddenly I had someone to share things with, show things to.

Hmm. And she, did she show things to you?

She did try to show me things. Some things.

How to dance, for example.

Will you?

Will I...

what?

What went wrong?

Well, for instance, soon after our marriage,

I had a few of my friends and business associates in to meet Belinda.

Did you go to Aldeburgh this year?

No, we didn't. We went to Chichester.

I haven't been since they did that Inca thing.

It was great fun.

The festival people invited us actually. Buffy's on the committee.

Oh, is he?

No, thank you.

So glad you came to join us.

We were in Saint-Tropez. How was that?

Unbearable. Simply jigging with hippies.

Of course one sees them everywhere these days.

Hello. Hello.

Um, would you like some food? No, thank you.

If I ate one teeny little anchovy,

I'd be coiled like a hoop all night.

In my opinion, the Conservative Conference was an absolute disgrace.

Look at the way they voted to bring back the death penalty.

For people who kill policemen, I rather support that.

Of course you do. That's not the point.

They should have voted to bring back hanging for all murders.

I agree. Yeah, the law has gone soft,

like an overripe melon.

In some countries, they used to cut off the hands of a thief.

Both of them?

The left hand for the first offense.

The right hand for the second.

I think that's a bit severe.

Possibly.

But the incidence of thievery is now very low.

We need a return to the old-fashioned law enforcement.

Bring back the pillory and the stocks.

Bring back the whipping post.

No. No. No. Let the rapist feel some of the pain

he inflicted on his poor victim.

Why don't they just chop it off?

I beg your pardon?

Chop off his thing.

That would make sure he'd never do it again.

Belinda's just joking.

No, I'm not. I think it's a good idea.

Chop off the offending parts.

Murderers lose their heads. Um, spies their eyes.

Shoplifters their hands and rapists their things.

It'd cut second offenses down to nothing.

And it should be done in public too.

Much, much more effective.

Hmm.

Uh, excuse me.

Don't you think you were a little excessive in there?

I was? What about them?

Lord Pauncefoot is a little more experienced than you are, you know.

He does happen to be a magistrate. Hmm.

I do have an opinion sometimes.

I thought you wanted me to enter into things.

You certainly did, with a bang.

I think we ought to go back in.

Mmm. I tell you what.

You go in. You can manage by yourself.

And after they've all gone, I'll make us one of my leftover specials just for us.

Bribery? Yes.

I really don't think it's a very good idea.

I mean, they are our friends, you know.

Yes. They like you. They've told me so.

Do they? That's nice.

It's my fault, I know. I just don't seem to be able to relate to any of them.

Well, isn't it just a question of trying?

Mmm. I think it's a question of vibes.

- Vibes? - Hmm. Vibes.

Vibrations.

They are people, you know.

Just be natural.

You'll find the vibes will take care of themselves.

Just be yourself.

Hmm.

How came the change?

Perhaps it was a result of different backgrounds,

different tastes, different likings, dislikings.

These basic differences began to grow

until they were all out of proportion.

These last few weeks it's got worse.

When you're in the throes of courtship and honeymooning,

you're not conscious of them.

You're not conscious of them until the marriage begins to settle.

And within six months, my gay young pupil vanished.

In her place sat a secretive little girl.

Hi.

Are you enjoying that book?

Or do you find its style too composed?

No, I like the style.

I just feel so sorry for her.

Why?

Because she's trapped.

If anyone, one should feel sorry for the husband, surely.

No. He's a drag.

I'd say it's really his fault she takes a lover.

Indeed.

You know, my dear, people aren't necessarily drags

just because they don't go about disguised as motorcyclists or Hudson Bay trappers.

And I'm getting a little weary of that word.

What? "Drag"? All that jargon.

"Drag." "Right on." "Far out."

I don't know. Whatever the latest word is.

It's all so limiting.

It's not limiting if it keeps changing.

Well, anyway.

Where were you this evening?

I phoned at 6:00 and again at 8:00. I was out.

I told you I was bringing a special client home for dinner.

Lord Benson. Exactly.

I had to take him to my club.

But I thought that was next week.

Really? Yes, I could have sworn...

Well, where were you anyway?

In a pub.

A pub?

Yeah.

In a pub.

Where was this pub?

In the East End.

Someone told me the East End was the real London,

and I realized I'd never been, so I went.

Charles, it really was incredible.

There was this great crowd of people all singing and dancing

and doing turns in front of the mic.

Not professionals or anything. Real people off the streets.

Who was this someone who told you?

Um, oh, uh... uh, just someone.

Belinda, this is your home, you know, not a pub.

What does that mean, "home"?

A place we've got to be at a certain time?

No, it's a place where you can be found at certain times

because you like being there.

I don't think you've known many such places in your life.

I don't think I've wanted them.

I guess I've always been afraid of sitting in one place too long.

Belinda, listen to me. I...

Marriage is a different relationship, you know, to an affair.

It's actually a contract between two people expressing obligation.

I have obligations to you. You have to me.

I find that beautiful, don't you?

Yes, if they're earned. Earned?

Everything's got to be earned, hasn't it?

"Everything's got to be earned."

I wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that.

And three days later, I wasn't at all sure she knew either.

We'll take coffee in the sitting room, Bertha.

Where on earth can the poor girl be?

Oh, please don't worry, Lady Crouch.

My daughter-in-law has only the vaguest notion of time.

All the same, matey, I don't think we should have started without her.

And had eight portions of burnt duckling at two pounds a head?

These hired cooks cost enough as it is. All right, Mother.

Hi, everybody. I'm sorry I'm late.

Charles. Mrs. Sidley. Hi, Sir Philip.

Lady Crouch. Ted.

Charles, I am sorry. I made the most stupid mistake with buses.

Well, I'm glad you've all eaten anyway.

Good-bye.

Don't you think you owe me an explanation?

Or do you think "a mistake with buses" is sufficient?

Oh, Charles, please. I... I did say I was sorry.

Where exactly were you?

Windsor. Windsor?

Hmm. In a park.

There's a great park there. It's called Windsor Great Park.

Imagine that. And what were you doing there?

I was looking at dolphins.

You were looking at dolphins? Dolphins.

There's a whole family of them in this sort of zoo thing.

And I was watching them for ages,

and I forgot the time, you see.

Then I had to wait hours for a bus.

They only seem to run every three days.

At least I could... couldn't find one.

You spent your time this evening watching dolphins.

Is that what you're telling me?

They're so funny, Charles, and so intelligent.

Were you alone?

They do the most incredible tricks.

Were you alone, Belinda?

No.

There were hundreds of people there.

You know what I mean.

And you watched these dolphins by yourself?

You traveled down there by yourself?

Yes!

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

So there you are. Are you satisfied now?

To me it's obvious beyond any doubt what is going on.

And now, if it's not too much trouble,

would you kindly read that document?

With as little pleasure as one can read such a document.

If I just could find it.

Now, look what a mess I've made of it all.

Well, some of it is here.

I can read you the first day at any rate.

Here. Listen to it.

Hmm. Here.

Report by J. Cristoforou

on the movements of Mrs. C. Sidley.

Wednesday, 29 of August.

10:48.

Subject leaves house.

Walks east without undue hurry.

The day, what one might call a typical English summer day.

She hails a taxi.

By the way, have you ever considered what one does

when one's quarry hails a taxi and there isn't another one in sight?

Subject proceeds to Madam Martha, hatmaker,

132 Mount Street.

Did you see in? Of course.

Who was there? Four other ladies.

Any men? I don't think so.

You don't think?

Well, they may have just been dressed as ladies.

It's just a possibility in a hat shop.

Go on. Subject collects hat

and emerges wearing it.

Hat resembles a bunch of wilted lettuce. Very unbecoming.

I recommended that hat for her myself.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

11:53.

Subject in exquisite green hat

goes to the Michelangelo Coffee Bar.

She orders a Leaning Tower of Pisa.

What the hell's that?

Oh, it's a magical sundae of peppermint ice cream,

tutti frutti, chocolate chips,

nougat, stem ginger and molasses.

Your wife, Mr. Sidley, is very partial to it.

So, as a matter of irrelevant fact, am I.

Do you have a sweet tooth yourself?

Never mind about my teeth. What happened next?

She walked into Hyde Park

and performed certain actions indicating lightness of heart.

What kind of actions? Oh, just carefree gestures.

Nothing important.

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ As long as you're there ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ I'll be ♪

♪ Only ♪

♪ A smile away from all you do ♪

♪ No matter where you lead me to ♪

Then she went up to the statue of Peter Pan.

What a charming statue that is, by the way.

It almost persuades one to believe in fairies.

Every few minutes she looks at her watch.

For a while,

I was absolutely convinced she had a date.

But then suddenly she left.

You followed her, of course.

3:17.

Subject enters a cinema playing a double bill of horror films.

Horror films?

She sat by herself?

Six hours and 20 minutes.

Six hours?

Yes. She saw them both twice.

And that's all you have to tell me?

Hmm, essentially yes.

About the first day.

Well, I'll tell you some more when I find the other papers about the other day.

It's not easy setting a detective on your wife.

It must seem rather bad form to you.

Or it would if, uh... If I wasn't one myself.

Well, it still does, Mr. Sidley, I must admit.

Despising? That's rather rich, coming from you.

Why? They despise me after all.

Well, what else do you expect? Nothing. Nothing.

The client looks down on the whore who relieves him.

It's a familiar pattern, isn't it?

Charming image.

Yeah, but appropriate, I think.

Then why do you do it? Well, private reasons.

Or to be exact, public reasons.

I doubt if you would understand.

Mr. Scrampton's appointment. Yes, yes. I'll see him in a moment.

Mr. Cristoforou, never mind about the bloody report. Tell me the truth.

Does my wife have a lover?

There's someone else, isn't there?

Mm-hmm. Go on.

Well, I find it hard.

Go on. What's he like? Young?

Yes. Handsome?

Yes. What else? A hippie type, I suppose.

No. He's what you call "with it," I suppose.

Well-dressed. The look of an aristocrat. An aristocrat?

Yeah, he could easily be in the diplomatic corps or something like that.

Why? How does he behave towards her? Diplomatically?

Oh, yes. He shows great restraint at all times.

You mean they don't actually kiss in public? Certainly not.

Well, what do they do then?

Well, uh, watching from a distance,

I'd say that their relationship is one of the utmost tenderness.

They stare at each other.

They give each other those secret little glances.

I believe the French call it... Damn him.

Mr. Sidley. What's his name? Where does he live?

Don't you know? You're a detective, aren't you? Yes.

Well, why have you come here? I want his name and address by tonight.

Mr. Sidley. By tonight!

Mr. Sidley, don't talk to me like that. I'm a professional man.

You're a sneaking, prying impertinent...

I took the liberty of coming in. Time is money with me, you know.

So if you can't see me, just say so and I'll go somewhere else.

On, no, no, no. It's perfectly all right. I was just leaving.

Well, let's get down to it, shall we?

My time is very limited.

It's London this morning, Leeds this afternoon

and Reid's Hotel for commercial gentlemen, Manchester by 10:00 tonight.

Good morning, Mr. Sidley.

That's the sort of day I have.

Remember, by tonight.

Mr. Sidley, stop blaming me.

I didn't want to tell you. You made me.

They're after me, Mr. Sidley.

I'll give it to you in a nutshell.

I am a creator of toilet specialities.

Two years ago, I invented a special cleanser for the adolescent face.

Teen Kleen. Removes spots and pimples like magic.

I sold it under a slogan that became nationally famous on the television.

"Teen Kleen's the reason you don't have to squeeze 'em."

We made a packet, a regular bundle.

That's the trouble. I made no bloody provision for it.

I know it's hard to believe, but I kept no proper account.

Are you paying attention?

Oh, you kept no proper account.

And now those bloody scoundrels are after me for 30,000 pounds in back tax.

Oh, yes. 30,000 bloody pounds.

And why? Because I had the vision to see a social need and cater for it.

I gave new hope to all whose love life was ever ruined by acne.

To all them poor lads and lasses with lumps and blotchy skin.

You're not paying attention!

Miss Framer, would you give Mr. Scrampton the address of Maitland, please,

and then ring them and ask if someone in the office can see him immediately.

You'll be well looked after there.

I shan't be back today, Miss Framer.

What's wrong? Nothing.

There's something. I can tell. Are you quite well? Quite.

Are you sure you haven't got pneumonia?

It's raging through London, in case you didn't know.

Alice Mannering has got it. So has Diana Featherclough.

So, I'm glad to say, has that awful Mrs. Beadle.

I hear that yesterday her temperature was 105

and she was the color of seaweed.

I have not got pneumonia. Thank you, Mother.

Then what's the matter with you? You've eaten nothing, but you never do anymore.

Our Friday lunches together are a complete disaster these days.

When you went to the altar, you could have eaten a small cow for your lunch.

Now you can't even manage a slice the size of a cocktail napkin.

If that isn't nature's revenge for an unwise marriage, I'd like to know what is.

I'm prepared to forgive your wife for not being able to cook.

As she was virtually born in a coffee bar,

she's obviously never encountered anything more complicated

than a Danish sandwich.

But she can't even see when a man is totally run-down,

and that in a wife is inexcusable.

Perhaps she's in the foyer, old boy.

She must have arrived by now. Yes, yes.

Charles.

Hello. Good evening.

Well, you've only missed the first hour.

Um, help me with the drinks, will you?

Sorry. I know. Where were you?

In a greenhouse. What were you doing there?

Looking at it. All evening?

No. No. Then I watched the sun go down over this lake.

They have a lake there with beautiful flowers planted all round it.

Hello, Charles. Hello, Henry.

It must... It must be a kind of gardening center. Yes.

You can buy anything there from a watering can to a weeping willow.

Oh. I hadn't watched a whole sunset in ages.

I mean, not the whole thing right up to the moment when the last bit goes out.

Here you are, Charles. Take 'em, old boy, before I drop 'em.

Ah. Ooh.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Please, we're both tired. Let's not talk anymore tonight.

Oh, sorry.

And you're sure it was only the sunset that kept you?

All right. No, it wasn't only the sunset. Indeed.

It began when I thought how we wouldn't be going to enjoy music.

First there'd be the music,

and afterwards you'd question me about it

in a way that would make me feel I'd missed it all.

Is that what I do? All the time.

This place isn't my home. It's my school.

Indeed? Yes, indeed.

Okay, maybe I wanted that from you.

Maybe I still want it. I want to be taught things all my life,

but not by some angry headmaster.

You used to call me your little pupil.

But that's not right, because a pupil is someone you train to be independent.

You don't want that for me. I see.

Don't sulk. Talk to me.

You know how I feel with you? Guilty.

Really? Yeah. You make me feel guilty most of the time.

Indeed? Yes, indeed. Indeed.

There you go. That iceberg language of yours. I can't stand it!

Oh, well, forgive me.

I should take more care to pick my words.

I haven't your advantage with the English language.

What's the matter with you? You've changed so much!

I've changed? If you could just see yourself.

You've become so picky and gritty.

I'm sorry. You have a go at me if you want.

I don't want to "have a go," as you call it.

I expect you to behave as a wife.

Is that utterly incomprehensible to you?

Yes, it is! Utterly.

What is that? A wife? Something you get to be?

A wife, bang. Then it's over?

Two people meet. They're mad about each other.

They try everything they know to attract each other.

Bits of knowledge, jokes, things they love. Music, paintings, chop suey.

Walks in the country. Remember?

Anything that can say "This is part of me, and it's for you."

Then they get married and all those gifts stop.

Like they're just devices for attracting a mate.

Passports you can throw away as soon as you've reached where you want to get.

Two fixed places called "husband" and "wife."

We showed each other the treasures we had.

You more than me because you had more.

I just had... feelings.

You had Bellini and Darwin and "The Marriage of Figaro."

Suddenly all that stopped.

Now we give each other nothing.

We're safely married, so we don't have to.

That's very cynical.

I'm trying to be honest. Are you?

Are you sure about that?

Maybe I'm crazy.

Love, for me, has nothing to do with contracts.

For me it's just

this burst of joy that someone exists, that's all.

And with it comes a huge great need to go and greet them.

That's the word. Greet.

I used to greet you 20 times a day.

Now it's hardly ever.

Now it's like you resent me half the time. Resent?

It's all so dead between us.

You can hardly expect courtship to go on forever.

Oh, I do. It must!

Just because we're married the love affair can't be over. It's never over!

If it's over, then the marriage is over. Oh, God.

I-I put it badly. I haven't got the words.

But I know we've got to have new things every day.

New sights, new feelings, new joys! New joys all the time.

And new lovers?

What?

And new lovers too?

For someone who's trying to be honest, you make a pretty rotten showing.

Don't you?

What do you mean?

I know, Belinda. I know.

There's no need for any more of this.

Know?

About him. Your man.

You can't. Oh, but I do.

How? I may be an angry headmaster. I'm not the village idiot.

Oh.

Don't you think you'd better tell me?

No.

Is it so painful?

All right. Just... listen and make what sense of it you can.

You know, um, how I've been going out by myself lately?

I have noticed. Mmm.

Well, I... I just wanted to be alone, that's all. By myself.

I walked for days,

a wandering nothing.

Where did you go?

It doesn't matter. Streets. Parks. Anywhere where I could be alone.

I felt invisible.

When I caught a glimpse of my reflection, I was surprised there was anyone there.

One day for a change I took one of those pleasure

boats that do little trips down the Thames.

And there sitting across from me, was an extraordinary-looking man.

Yes, I know. Young, handsome, no doubt.

Debonair. The look of a diplomat.

No. No. No. Not at all like that.

He was a goofy little man in a white raincoat, eating macaroons out of a paper bag.

He had the funniest expression, as if he wanted to wink but didn't know how.

At first I though he was trying to pick me up, but it wasn't that.

What I was seeing was... approval.

You know, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be looked at without criticism?

He made no attempt to come any closer.

He just kept staring at me all the time.

Made me feel rather shocked for some reason.

When I got off the boat, I thought that was the end of it.

But as I was walking down South Audley Street, there he was again.

In the end, I-I dived into a hairdresser's and had a totally unnecessary shampoo.

Taxi.

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ As long as you're there ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ I'll be ♪

♪ Only ♪

♪ A smile away from all you do ♪

♪ No matter where you lead me to ♪

I suppose I'd have put him down as some kind of a nut and forgotten him,

but he kept turning up.

We never make a date.

All that happens is that wherever I go, he-he's sure to follow.

Like-Like Mary's little lamb.

If he got a kick just following me around who was I to complain?

Do you remember when I told you I'd been to Windsor Park to see the dolphins?

I don't think you believed me, but it was true.

And now, our 14-foot killer whale.

I s... I suppose at the start, I ought to have been scared, but I never was.

All I knew was that if I was the loneliest...

the loneliest girl in town, he must be the loneliest man.

Ah, dear Juliet.

Why art thou yet so fair?

Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous?

And that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour?

For fear of that, I still will stay with thee.

Some days he would lead, and some days I would.

I suppose I ought to have told you I...

But I was afraid you'd p-put an end to it.

Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

Oh!

Oh.

I suppose it amounts to this.

I've had the closest relationship with a man I've never even spoken to.

What more can I tell you?

When I'm with him, I live. I share all the time.

And because there are no words,

everything's easy and possible.

Hello. It's Julian Cristoforou at this end.

Charles Sidley. I beg your pardon?

Charles Sidley speaking. I'm coming over immediately. Stay where you are.

I had no intention of leaving.

I'm just going out. I won't be long. Please don't go. Not just now.

There's something I have to take care of.

Uh...

Enter. It's not locked.

"He who locks his door locks his heart." An old Indian proverb.

Or it could be Chinese.

Stand up.

You. You bloody meddling...

"He who locks his door saves his strength." A Greek proverb.

Let me up. Now, what is all this?

I've done nothing to you.

Nothing? Only stolen my wife's affections. That's all.

Oh, Mr. Sidley, your wife's affections weren't stolen. They were going begging.

Blast you! Let me up.

I want to let you up, but as soon as I do, you get violent.

You force me to desperate measures, Mr. Sidley.

It's not fair of you.

- Will you let me up? - Of course.

Do you think I am enjoying this? Holding you onto the floor? Then get off me!

I will, I will, when you are calm.

But I warn you. Charles!

What's happened? Are you all right?

Belinda, eh... What do you think...

"Belinda." What a beautiful name.

Excuse me. Oh.

Uh, Charles, it's him. What?

It's him. The man.

It's him. He knows.

Don't. I'm afraid I must.

Uh, what do you mean, he knows?

Please. It's inevitable.

I ask as a friend. You're not a friend.

Then as an employer. I order you to keep silent. Order?

Employer? What do you mean, employer?

Just a slip of the tongue. I meant he's a client. On the floor?

I'm not his client, Mrs. Sidley. In fact, he's mine.

Who are you?

All right.

He's a private detective...

I hired... to spy on you.

No. It was all I could think of. I was at my wit's end.

I know it's awful. But your behavior was so odd. Admit that.

Don't touch me!

I don't want to see you again... ever.

This is all your fault. Mine?

You. You. You're the cause of all the trouble!

Oh, of course, me. Why not? Always blame the detective.

Without the faintest grounds for suspicion, you set me on your wife.

Why? Vanity.

You couldn't bear the idea that she'd just got fed up with you.

There had to be a lover, didn't there?

First thing tomorrow morning, I'm going to see that you're fired!

I'm agonized.

Belinda!

I forbid it. I absolutely forbid it.

We have never had the police called in to our family. We're not going to start now.

How else can I find her?

Do you want our name spread all over the newspapers?

I don't give a damn about the newspapers or our name!

Oh, very well. There's no more to be said.

Go ahead and make a public exhibition of yourself.

Actually, I can't think why you're being so dramatic.

In my day, people disappeared all the time. It was the thing to do.

Winnie Carstairs used to disappear regularly for three days every Easter.

Lady String did it so often, they used to call her the Indian rope.

In any case, they all turned up again, to universal regret.

What do you want?

Excuse me, but I have to know.

Where's Belinda?

What's that to you? Did she come back to you?

No, she did not.

You mean she's been away for 36 hours?

Oh, you're the detective. You tell me.

Please, Mr. Sidley.

Let's not quarrel.

Can I come in?

In the first place, I'm agonized with guilt.

After all, I was working for you.

And I betrayed you.

I've punished myself by resigning.

I'm no longer a detective.

Isn't that good? One less detective in the world could only be a benefit to it.

May I say, with respect, that you look ghastly?

So do you.

Yes. Shall we eat something?

No, thank you.

When was the last time you ate?

Come, sit down and tell me.

What are you going to do about getting her back?

Nothing.

I had thought of the police, but what's the good of that?

She's probably in California by this time.

No, I don't think so.

What do you mean? You know where she is?

Well, I could find her. How?

I have my methods.

Which the regular police know nothing about.

I have noticed.

Good health is very important at a time like this. Could you do it?

I told you. I'm a superb detective.

Then do. For heaven's sake.

You really want her back?

You don't think you are better on your own?

Does it look like it? Very good.

I'll find her.

But whether she comes back to you,

that I can't promise.

What do you mean by that?

Well, she may wish to stay by herself or go with someone else.

Someone else?

Hmm. We'll have to see what she wants, won't we?

Hmm?

Well, what's my crime?

The fairy prince has turned into a frog, is that it?

Go away.

At least let me explain to you what kind of frog I am.

I know what you are.

A despicable little man who breaks up people's marriages.

No, no, no, no. They do that for themselves.

Why don't you just dick off to your dick's office.

I can't. I haven't got one anymore.

Oh, that's just tough.

How can you talk like this to someone who has been as intimate with you as I have?

Intimate? Certainly.

You and I spent ten days in this city as blissfully as two people ever spent them.

Beware.

There is no sin in the world more unpardonable

than denying you were pleased when pleasure touched you.

You made a complete fool out of me.

You call that pleasure?

That's not true.

I found you aimless in London. I gave you direction.

I found you smile-less. I gave you joy.

Not eternal joy or even joy for a month.

But immediate, particular, bright little minutes of joy,

which is all we ever get or should expect.

Come on. Give up self-pity. It doesn't become you.

I'll give up what I like. Just leave me alone.

I should be very angry with you.

It was no part of my job to sit down on a boat and smile at you.

Who asked you to? You did.

I did?

Of course.

Loneliness like yours gives off signals.

Someone like me has to pick them up.

For years now, I've been a man with no private existence.

I have had no ideas, no views,

no feelings that were absolutely mine.

I came alive only in a public situation.

Early in my life, I started taking as many jobs as I could manage.

Sometimes three and four at a time.

Simply... to escape...

facing my own emptiness.

You wouldn't believe the life I led.

I sold Jewish encyclopedias in East London, Arab carpets in West London,

Scottish insurance in North London,

Irish whiskey in South London.

I took American tourists to Greece...

and would just as cheerfully have taken Greek tourists to America if I'd been asked.

Anything to escape being alone with myself.

And then one day, this job was offered to me.

I became a detective,

a public eye.

Even that started to bore me...

until I saw you.

Then everything became possible.

Do you know what I'm saying?

You give life, Belinda.

Oh, sure.

Look at Charles. Charles?

Look at the life I've given him.

But you're not to blame for that.

He did that to himself. No. It was me.

Mostly me, really. Belinda.

Look, you don't have to follow me anymore. You're not being paid now.

I'm sorry.

I would follow you without payment for quite a long time.

It was nice. Mmm.

We broke pleasure together, like bread.

You're a strange man.

Where will you go now?

Finland, Iceland, Greenland, Blueland. What does it matter?

Matters to me.

You called me a life-giver. It's not true.

I'm the most selfish person I've ever met.

Mm, I don't believe that.

Do you know how much pain you've got to feel before you send for a detective?

I didn't even notice with Charles.

Ah, but that's Charles. He keeps everything to himself.

Vintage Englishman.

Well, he didn't used to be.

He was fun, really. We would enjoy things together.

Oh, he was a little pompous, I know.

But so what?

Before, most of my friends were like nomads.

Off here. Off there. And me too.

But not Charles. He always seemed so sure and wise.

The trouble is,

it's like... it's like there's a great list already made up,

and there's no room on it for anything more.

Anything or anybody.

He doesn't need me.

What can I give him?

Belinda, please. No, no. No, no.

No, Belinda. Please don't.

Belinda. Oh, God.

We'll have to dry your eyes.

Oh, oh, how appalling. I'm agonized.

Let me dry your eyes, hmm?

A simple service from a simple friend.

Eye-drying while you wait.

Come on. Look into my eye. This one.

Do you know what this is? One of the seven wonders of the world.

The completely public eye which looks entirely outward.

Beside this eye, the eagle is blind, the puma needs spectacles.

It possesses the most watchful iris,

the most attentive cornea,

the most perceptive retina in the Northern hemisphere.

And for ten days, it was focused exclusively on you.

And it tells me, alas, beyond any doubt,

that you still want your husband.

No.

All right. If you don't, why are you still here?

Why aren't you now in California

instead of sitting about in English greenhouses?

I don't know.

All you want is to find your way back to him.

Oh, stop it. All that magazine-y language.

I've got a magazine-y mind.

I should never have spoken.

When we were dumb, we understood each other.

You want him back?

No. Not back. Forward.

That would be different.

If we could only grow together.

If I could find the real Charles, the man I know inside him.

The man whose face goes all veiled with joy when he hears Mozart.

The man who says when he's pleased, "It's agreeable."

Agreeable. Prim little word, and the whole face sparkling.

I want him.

I see.

What shall I do?

You really want to try?

All right. Do for him what you did for me. What was that?

For ten days, I walked through London, all alone, except for you to point the way.

And slowly, in the depth of that long silence,

I began to hear a most wonderful sound.

The rustle of my own emotions growing.

Incredible sensation. It's a tickle of original feeling.

Belinda, you gave me the only gift I really needed.

So give it to him.

How?

Do you trust me? I don't know.

All right, put yourself under my orders, and it could work.

Orders?

Let me be the first detective in the world to cement a marriage.

What are you going to do?

Hello.

Is that you?

If it's you, Belinda, please speak.

This is Julian Cristoforou at this end.

Well, have you found her?

Well, you'll do exactly as I tell you, Mr. Sidley,

or it will be the worse for you.

Look, have you found her?

You'll come to your office right away.

Mr. Cristoforou, I'd like to know whether Belinda is with you or not.

As I said, right away, or you'll never see your wife again.

Oh. It took you a long time to get here.

Where's my wife?

Shall we go home?

I'm sure we can discuss everything calmly by ourselves.

Belinda.

Belinda, please, I'm talking to you.

No, no, it's useless to address her.

I'm appointed to speak for her.

She is so shocked by what you have done,

setting a low, sneaking, prying detective on her,

that she is leaving you forever.

Unless... You see, you're lucky. There is an unless.

You have one chance of keeping her, but only one.

You'll take my place in the streets of London.

You will follow her every day for ten days

at a distance of 50 feet,

wherever she chooses to go.

You will look at whatever she chooses to point at.

You will listen to whatever she chooses to hear.

You will sit, stand, skip or shuffle,

entirely at her will.

And during all that time, not even at the table or in bed,

will you exchange one single word.

If there is something special you want to show her, you may lead,

but it had better be good.

This is your will, isn't it, Belinda?

The alternative is divorce.

Division.

Endless separation.

Have you finished? Absolutely.

If you have, would you keep... Go, Belinda.

Stay, Belinda.

I suggest the Michelangelo coffee bar for a start.

Make him eat a Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Make him eat two.

Now, look, this is an amusing joke, of course,

but do you really expect me to follow you round London?

I admit I was at fault. I admit it.

But the faults were on both sides.

Even if mine were more serious.

Belinda! Go on. Follow her.

Very amusing. It could be.

If she thinks I'm going after her, she's mad.

I strongly advise you to. Really?

You don't know my wife as well as you think.

She'll be back in... a few minutes.

Now will you go?

Do you wish me to ring for the police and have you thrown out?

Do you wish to spend the rest of your life alone?

All right, throw me out. Throw her out. Throw everybody out.

Exactly what kind of time are you going to have by yourself these next few years?

That's none of your business. Maybe not.

But it concerns your wife, and she concerns me.

Unfortunately, she's still in love with you.

Whatever your magic is, it's better than mine.

Look out of the window.

Marrying this girl was the best day's work you ever did.

Losing her will be the worst.

You will become dryer and dryer and dryer

until finally you will fall into dust and blow away.

She was never unfaithful to you, and you know it.

She only gave me her joy when you refused it.

Give her the chance to love you.

For God's sake, give yourself the chance to love her.

Not impress, love.

Not dominate, love.

Is that so hard for you?

Well, you think that would work?

Following her around London like a pet dog?

Well, Orpheus tried to lead his girl out of hell

by not looking at her.

Let Belinda lead you by not speaking.

Do you think that's so silly?

How many people would become married in fact as well as law

if they just shut up

and looked and listened

and heard each other's heartbeats in the daytime?

Even if you weren't totally insane, I can't leave my office for ten days.

Why not? I could represent you perfectly.

I've got no job at the moment.

I could... All I do is sit here and take messages.

I know your secretary could do it, of course.

But I'm sure I'm better at lying.

Hello?

Is that Mr. Sidley? Oh, no, no. I'm afraid not.

No, he's on a very important assignment for Her Majesty's Treasury.

May I take your name and get him to call you? Ralph.

Oh, thank you. One moment, please.

Dear Mr. Sidley, I envy you more than any man on earth.

Down below, a glorious girl is waiting for you to renew your courtship.

Could any prospect be more lovely?

Mr. Sidley, here is my present for the occasion.

Unflattering perhaps, but helpful.

Conditioned reflexes, you know.

And if you find any macaroons in the pocket, you're welcome to them.

One thing, Mr. Cristoforou,

you said the man my wife met every day was handsome,

"with it," "had the looks of a diplomat."

Well, I thought it more tactful.

After all, any husband might forgive himself

for losing to a dream figure like that.

What is going on?

Hello.

Oh, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Cristoforou.

Julian Cristoforou. I'm Mr. Sidley's new partner.

I have diplomas in accountancy from the universities of Cairo, Istanbul,

Beirut and Damascus.

I am the author of the well-known handbook "Teach Yourself Tax Evasion."

What seems to be your trouble? Inland Revenue are holding me to ransom.

Oh, I see. Well, it's unbelievable, isn't it?

Well, when I say unbelievable,

I mean I'd believe anything about them, wouldn't you?

Of course, but 50,000 pounds is too much.

How much? Fifty thousand pounds.

Fifty thousand pounds' tax? Monstrous.

You haven't paid it, I hope?

No. Oh, splendid, splendid.

Oh, paying any tax over one percent of your income I consider a desperate mistake.

I'll kill them. Exactly.

Hello? Hello!

Hello. What is happening?

Never mind, sir. Something this end.

Oh, I assure you we won't let the government touch a penny piece of your money.

Don't you worry about a thing.

Just come round right away,

and if you could bring with you a pound or two of granulated sugar,

I'll be greatly obliged.

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ As long as you're there ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ I'll be ♪

♪ Only ♪

♪ A smile away from all you do ♪

♪ No matter where you lead me to ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ Follow ♪

♪ Your heart is the heart ♪

♪ I'll follow ♪

♪ Softly ♪

♪ Slowly ♪

♪ You look my way ♪

♪ No words are said ♪

♪ But still I hear ♪

♪ Inside my head ♪

♪ Follow ♪